


Go With the Flow

by Sajo



Series: GWtF [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: High School, Korean Characters, M/M, Sexual Content, Slice of Life, gratuitous teenage cussing, warnings for general social/high school issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sajo/pseuds/Sajo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jiho has a comfortable routine: He lives in the moment, skipping class when he feels like it and getting into fights (mostly with his self-proclaimed rival), but he tries to be a good son otherwise. But then Taeshik, a student from the crosstown school, bumps into Jiho's life, Seokjun comes back from military service, and suddenly, stupid hormones become a distraction that Jiho hadn't ever planned for. </p><p>[A simple slice-of-life set in pseudo-Busan, South Korea, with dumb fistfights, some teen angst, and flying hormones.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Week 1, March, Friday: Jiho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the setting is South Korea, I'll be using the "Surname Given-Name" convention.  
> Please refer to the end notes for translations of Korean terms.

**주 1, 3월, 금요일: Jiho**

* * *

"Damn it, Mun Jiho!"

"Seo Minjae~! You never told me you collect this kind of stuff!"

"I  _don't_  and  _gimme_  that!" 

Minjae's harried voice was nearly drowned out by the chatter of the bottleneck of students fighting to exit the school gates. A furious blush staining his cheeks, the 2nd year Hwaran High School student floundered after Jiho. His flailing attempts to grab the hentai magazine, neatly rolled-up in Jiho's hand, were futile.

It was easy for Jiho—long-legged and taller than most of the student body, at 6'3"—to walk briskly and just ahead of Minjae's half-jog, his arm dancing just out of reach. Geon trailed behind them, most of his concentration on the notebook in his hand and easily ignoring the antics of his two friends. Jiho teased Minjae until they left the perimeter of their school and ran across the street before the light could turn red. Safe on the sidewalk again, Jiho turned to walk backwards and bopped Minjae's head with the magazine before having it snatched from his grip.

"Better keep that hidden away, you wouldn't want a teacher to stumble on that."

"Oh, fuck off," Minjae responded lightly, still blushing as he stuffed the magazine into his backpack. Jiho snorted, then turned to walk properly—

And something collided into his face with a solid crack.

"Oww..." Jiho held the lower half of his face, from both surprise and pain. The healing cut on his left cheek started to throb under its bandaid.

"Ffffuuuck...—" a low voice from somewhere near Jiho's neck level hissed.

Jiho lowered his hand and eyes to witness his obstacle clutching his forehead. It was a forehead covered by thick, wavy curls of dark blond hair. 'Dyed hair can't look that natural,' was the first thought that flitted through Jiho's mind before his manners kicked in.

"Hey, sorry about—"

"Watch where you're going, fucking retard!" the guy looked up, practically growling through gritted teeth.

Minjae and Geon glanced at each other, and then proceeded to watch the show unfolding before them. Jiho gaped a bit, mostly because of the rude outburst. Half hidden by hair, the handsome, almost-foreign facial features—deep-set, heavy-lidded eyes, and a sharp, long nose—were also a surprise. It wasn't very often he saw a halfie around town.

"The fuck are you staring at, Hwaran loser?!"

Their uniforms had immediately identified their respective schools. Hwaran High's boys' uniform consisted of navy blue blazer and trousers, gray tie, with a plain white button-down shirt. The foul-mouthed guy was from Shinjung Academy, with his white trousers and black-trimmed white blazer, gray button-down, and dark red tie. Of course some rich kid from Shinjung would use the crosstown public school as an insult.

Jiho didn't react when a hand shot out to grab the top of his shirt and tie, and he moved forward—just a bit, to humor the guy—when he was pulled sharply. It was an angry compulsion, a spur-of-the-moment show of bravado that faltered when the Shinjung student finally realized the few inches height difference between them. He looked up into Jiho's unamused eyes. A couple seconds of tense silence stretched between them before he hissed out a "sshibal" and launched a sloppy punch at Jiho's face.

An easy block; the punch had been weak. Jiho's right hand barely trembled from the effort of pushing back against the fist. "Heh. Rather vulgar for a Shinjung aristocrat, aren't you?"

The guy grit his teeth and yanked his arm back down. A vein visibly pulsed on his forehead. "What the fuck do you know?  _Don't_  fucking patronize me—fucking low-class trash."

"Oooh~" Jiho snickered.

"Okay. Enough of this." The Shinjung girl who had been hanging back with a frown muttered. She stepped forward and thwacked the back of her peer's head.

"Calm down, Taeshik." The girl put her hands on her hips, disapproval clear on her pretty, angular face. Jiho noted that her features were just as almost-foreign as the guy's—as Taeshik's. "Show a little self-control. Having a bad day is no excuse to behave like some low-life yangachi. No one—least of all a stranger—wants to be on the receiving end of your little tantrums. Now—"

"All right, all right!  _I get it_!" Taeshik interrupted, eyes closed as he tried to contain his anger. He let out a frustrated huff and, with a parting shove, let go of Jiho's shirt. " _Fuck_ , noona...you sound just like father, with your nagging lectures."

The stern expression on the girl's—Taeshik's older sister?—face was unmoving.

"...Whatever," Taeshik grumbled and turned to walk past Jiho.

Jiho let out a small, fake cough and an offensively casual, "Hey. Taeshik." Taeshik paused but didn't turn around. "Tae. Shik."

He took the bait and turned to glare at Jiho, who had finished patting down his mussed shirt and tie. They said nothing for a few moments. The most annoying, sparkling, shit-eating grin was plastered on Jiho's face, he knew that, and he hoped it would piss Taeshik off further.

Finally, Taeshik growled out, "... _What_?" There was an unspoken 'fucking weirdo...' tacked onto the end of that question. His sister gripped the fabric of his sleeve in warning.

"So...?" Jiho spread his arms, palms tilted up, "That's it?" He raised an eyebrow, and the false grin was more of a smirk now. "Nothing to say...no apology or anything before running off?" Behind Jiho, Minjae was watching in fascination while Geon just facepalmed.

Taeshik jerked away from his sister's grip and spun to face Jiho. " _You_ —!"

"Haha, I'm just playing," Jiho said easily, patting Taeshik on the cheek. "Cheer up, man!"

Taeshik's expression turned dark. " _Don't_. Touch. Me." He smacked away the offending hand, his sister uttered a "Hey..." and before anyone else could make a move, Taeshik landed a solid punch on Jiho's cheek.

Taeshik stomped away, and with an apologetic look back at Jiho, the girl hurried after her brother. Jiho stared for a bit, rubbing his aching right cheek—the pain matched the one on his left.

"...Dude," Minjae said as they walked on. "You deserved that."

Jiho snorted. "I know."

"...Jiho..." Geon bit out. "You—"

"Ah well! That was fun."

Geon frowned at Jiho's interruption and evasion, but he didn't get a chance to pursue the issue. They had reached the intersection that led to their respective homes.

Jiho waved and jogged away, "See you guys Monday."

"Wh—you're skipping Saturday classes?!" Geon shouted uselessly; Jiho had already vanished into the foot traffic.

* * *

Jiho breathed in the rich smells of the Jagalchi Fish Market, pungent and salty, mixed with the smokiness of grilling fish. It was the place he'd called home for the first 14 years of his life, and the familiar scents always felt like a 'welcome back'. He navigated deftly through the crowds and stalls and moved aside for the honking trucks squeezing through the bustling asphalt roads.

It was convenient that the apartment he and his mother moved to three years ago was so close. He loved having fresh seafood for dinner, and there was no better or more accessible place than Jagalchi.

A few of the ajummas running the various stalls knew him, and they were always ready with their doting greetings and invitations to buy, buy, buy. Being tall was, for some reason, a huge asset when it came to charming middle-aged ladies and getting discount prices, and Jiho gladly took advantage of that, but today he wanted something specific that none of his go-to ajummas were displaying. Jiho courteously returned the ladies' greetings, but he kept on walking until he spotted a tank of large, lively eels.

A little girl had her palms pressed against the tank, as captivated by the eels as Jiho was. He stopped beside her to make his purchase. With a ready smile for the gruff ajumma running the stall, he requested three freshwater eels.

The ajumma nimbly scooped out one, two, and finally, "For such a tall boy like you," the longest eel in the tank. Happy with his purchase, Jiho wandered for a bit, mind absently going over the recipe for the sauce that would go with the cooked eel.

Then his feet were taking him through a familiar routine: down the busy alley, through the dim road flanked by the bookstore and grocery market, and just past the pharmacy...

He stopped to look up at the dark windows of a four-story brick building. The first floor had been rented out as a small market, and the second floor a restaurant. But the top two floors were a personal residence.

Jiho didn't really know why he did this.

Seokjun was up near Seoul for his compulsory 23-month stint in the navy. He probably didn't even think twice about leaving behind the lame kid who'd always stuck to him like a leech...

But they had been neighbors, Jagalchi natives together, and Jiho couldn't help but miss his hyung.

Jiho was an only child, and he had practically worshipped Seokjun, who had been cool and nice enough to let Jiho hang out with him. They'd spent whole weekends exploring all of the fish market and the surrounding city together. Seokjun had taken care of Jiho's scrapes and bruises, tutored Jiho when he needed the help, encouraged him every step of the way. He was a hyung to Jiho in every way but blood.

To Jiho's knowledge, Seokjun hadn't visited his home once since entering the military.

There really wasn't much here for Seokjun, Jiho supposed, aside from his inheritance that was this small 50-year-old building/house still standing strong. The warm-red brick structure was a quaint little pocket of old Busan, dwarfed by towering modern glass and concrete buildings. Jiho had lived in an apartment down the block, but it had been a boring gray one, and he loved Seokjun's place. After moving, he had occasionally visited Seokjun's grandparents here, before they decided to move to a quieter, rural island—something about a nice retirement paradise for old people.

Jiho hoped that when his hyung returned soon—his two years were almost over, wasn't it?—things would be...more normal. Whatever that meant.

He sighed and started the brisk 15-minute walk home.

Per routine, he took the stairs two at a time to his 8th-floor apartment. He entered the unlock code, took off his shoes, and flicked on the lights. He stopped by the kitchen to place the eels on the counter before disappearing into his room to ditch his blazer, tie, and backpack. He washed his face and hands, replaced the bandaid for the cut on his face, rolled up his sleeves.

He was ready for the rest of the day.

Rice was freshly washed and cooking. Sauce simmered and thickened on a pan. While leftover rice and soup was being microwaved, Jiho prepared the eels, his quick fingers washing, gutting, and slicing. He set aside the sauce to cool, dumped the microwaved rice in the stew and took a few quick bites of his dinner, and rinsed and skewered the slices of eel. He picked up his phone—5:57, he had 30 minutes to get to work—and speed dialed a number.

"Hey mom."

"Hey son!"

"I bought some freshwater eels. One of 'em's gigantic."

"Oh Jiho, I'm sorry I can't be there to cook with you..."

"It's all right, I know you're busy. I'm making your favorite jang-uh gui. Tried something new with the sauce, too."

"I have the best son ever! Thank you, Jiho."

"I'll keep the rice cooker on warm and marinate the eel. You can grill them when you get back, I gotta run to work."

"Okay, Jiho. I have to go too. I'll see you later."

"Love you, mom. Come home safe."

"I love you too, my son, bye!"

Jiho pocketed his phone, scarfed down the rest of his simple meal, and washed the dishes while the sauce cooled. He changed into a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, grabbed his duffel bag from his room to place it near the front door, and finished preparing the eel. With just enough minutes to spare, he grabbed his jacket and motorcycle helmet and left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sshibal (씨발) = has practically the same connotation as "fuck"; a common, all-purpose, emphatically vulgar cuss word
> 
> yangachi (양아치) = a dirty, low-life, thuggish, unprofessional, etc. "gangster"
> 
> noona (누나) = "elder sister" as used by males to address females; often used outside of blood relations by males addressing any older (but still young) female, if relationship hierarchies are known
> 
> Jagalchi (자갈치) Fish Market = It's an actual place in the city of Busan, South Korea, but my description fails to accurately reflect the reality of it...
> 
> ajumma (아줌마) = "married, middle-aged woman"/"aunty"
> 
> hyung (형) = "elder brother" as used by males to address males (cf. noona); often used outside of blood relations by males addressing any older male (if the age difference isn't huge)
> 
> jang-uh gui (장어구이) = "broiled/grilled eel" marinated with sweet, tangy sauce


	2. Week 1, March, Friday: Taeshik

**주 1, 3월, 금요일: Taeshik**

* * *

"Taeshik, where are you going?" Taehee grabbed her younger brother's shoulder when he didn't follow her.

"Fuck!" Taeshik shrugged her hand off. The lovely, quiet, cobbled stone path lined with flowering bushes and trees was not the place for such an outburst, but Taeshik couldn't give a damn right now. "Just leave me alone!"

"Taeshik. You're being an overdramatic brat."

"...Whatever." He massaged his temples, emotions still broiling. "Just go home, noona. Please."

Taehee sighed softly. "Fine. I suppose it's better if you cool your head first before going home. Don't be too late." Even on good days Taeshik had no patience for lectures about his behavior, and he appreciated that his sister—even though she took too much after father—at least knew when to back off.

He just...really...really needed the space, away from the house, after the debacle in school earlier.

Trying to empty his mind, he trudged down the road through the park that led to the urban seaside. Solitude and the crisp, seaside air usually helped. It was a slow 20-minute walk to Studio Oak, where Taeshik took art classes. He briefly considered staying for a live drawing session. But he was stupidly tired, and he wasn't confident he could focus, so he helped himself to a couch in the empty lounge and took a nap.

Beeping woke him up. He fumbled at his pocket for his phone. When he saw whom the text message was from, the calm from his short nap vanished and he sat up quickly.

_(3) new messages from JY_

Taeshik frowned, heartbeat rising. Why the fuck was Juyeon texting him?

He unlocked the screen and went to his message inbox.

6:15, 'Hey Taeshik...I'm sorry for earlier but you already know I'm fucked if we're caught together.'

6:16, 'I'm really sorry'

6:20, 'I'm a massive idiot for starting this thing between us. I was fucking crazy and just god, I am so sorry Taeshik...'

Taeshik stared at the messages until the screen went dark. What... Did Juyeon expect a response? Was Taeshik expected to reply to this final note to their "relationship"?

Or...was there room to start again...?

The thrill of being in a secret relationship had faded quickly, but still, Taeshik had liked having that kind of connection with another person. And he really liked Juyeon-sunbae...

What the fuck was he supposed to do?

After a few minutes of staring at nothing, his stomach rumbled.

Taeshik stood up, decision made. He remembered to leave his conspicuous white blazer and tie at the studio before heading to the Sagyejeol Café & Bar next door. 

* * *

'Blondie~ I miss you ;)' the text read. 'See me in 10?'

Taeshik sent off a quick 'sure', smiling in anticipation.

"Let's go to a love hotel tonight, Blondie," Juyeon whispered, grabbing Taeshik's hand to lead him into the empty classroom in the north wing of the school.

"Hn..."

Taeshik loved the closeness he felt when Juyeon so casually took his hand like this. It was...a warm contrast to the secrecy of their meetings. He slammed the door closed behind them.

"We haven't done it properly in a while," Juyeon whispered, mouth moving softly against Taeshik's collarbone while his hands roamed, untucked Taeshik's shirt.

They moved together clumsily until Juyeon hit a table and rested his butt against it. Taeshik pressed his hips against Juyeon's, his hands working unhurriedly. He was content to just hold Juyeon—who was slightly shorter than Taeshik and fit beautifully in his arms—and enjoy the closeness of their bodies and the hyung's light touches.

"Maybe I'll let you fuck me tonight, hmm?" Juyeon smirked.

The fluttering kisses down his jaw and neck were such a distraction... "Wh—whatever you want, sunbae," he managed, before Juyeon's lips pressed against his.

A firm hand gripped brown-blond curls, the other anchored to Taeshik's neck, and the kiss quickly turned wet and obscene. Taeshik brought his own hands up to hold onto the sides of Juyeon's face as he reveled in the contact.

They broke apart after what seemed like forever, and Taeshik was pleased with the blush that spread across Juyeon's lightly freckled cheeks. It wasn't easy to fluster the senior student.

Looking straight into Taeshik's eyes, a teasing smile lighting up his face, Juyeon murmured, "You're getting real good at this, Taeshik." He shifted his hand to trace a fingertip across Taeshik's lips. "I taught you well."

"I think," Taeshik said, laughing a bit when Juyeon started kissing his cheek again—he reminded him of a puppy—"I'd've managed without you..."

"Pft." Juyeon pulled back, then tucked a bit of hair behind Taeshik's ear. "I'll pretend you didn't just say that."

Taeshik also stood back a bit, gripping Juyeon's hips. "You're really going to let me pitch, sunbae?"

"I wouldn't be a good teacher if I skipped that lesson...but I'll go over it only if you can persuade me."

Before they could start making out again, there was a brief creak swiftly followed by the loud rattling of the wooden door sliding open. Juyeon barely had time to scramble back. Taeshik stayed where he was.

"What the—Juyeon?" The intruder stood at the entrance, hand braced against the frame.

"Ilgwon!" Juyeon gasped out, then glanced back at Taeshik. "Uh—"

"What are you doing here?" Juyeon's 3rd year classmate, with his lit cigarette bobbing between his teeth, had a suspicious expression on his face.

Juyeon looked away from Ilgwon and Taeshik, muttering, "...Fucking homo..." and shoved Taeshik.

Reeling from the sting of Juyeon's words, Taeshik stumbled back from the unexpected shove and fell on his ass. He instinctively grabbed a desk to prevent himself from hitting his head.

"Ugh, this is making me sick. I thought the kid wanted to talk, but he fucking came onto me." Juyeon sounded convincingly disgusted as walked away. "Whatever. Let's go, Ilgwon."

Taeshik couldn't bring himself to even look at Juyeon's retreating back.

He had never been so mortified before. Or—...he miserably admitted to himself—so heartbroken. He'd known that whatever they were doing couldn't last, but for it to end like this...

 

Taeshik forced the memory away, grabbed his drink, and, god, it was fucking stupid to be depressed over this but here he was. He propped his chin against his palm, worrying his lower lip.

'You're a fucking coward Juyeon but I can't even be angry with y'—he stopped typing and shakily pressed down the delete button, he couldn't even remember how many times he'd been doing this in the last however many hours. He resolutely tossed his phone on the bar top and drained the rest of the glass, then signaled at the bartender for two more shots.

He tipped back the glass. Before he could get to the next one, a somewhat familiar voice rang out somewhere to his left.

"Evening, Sunee-noona!"

"Good evening, Jiho," the bartender gave someone a smile—Taeshik didn't turn his face enough to look at who—and took the icebox she'd been offered. "Thank you. I'll be right back!"

Taeshik stared bemusedly for a moment before he attended his drink. Hm. He was starting to get a headache. Finally. Maybe he'd overdone it, mixing all that alcohol but. The empty glass clacked when he placed it sloppily on the counter. He leaned his forehead on his knuckles.

"Oh? Hey..." the voice was right next to his ear now. "Taeshik, right? From earlier today."

Taeshik barely turned his head when the face popped up into view, a little too much in his personal space. What the fuck?

"Heh. What a coincidence," Jiho said, smiling and helping himself to the seat next to Taeshik. "Man, you look like shit. Don't you have Saturday classes tomorrow?"

He could barely follow what Jiho was babbling about, and he didn't have to answer that because Sunee the bartender had come back with a huge slice of tiramisu and a glass of juice. "Here you go, Jiho."

"Thanks, noona!"

The next minute was full of blessed silence, where Taeshik could resume feeling like shit most of the time and the rest...stupidly noticing how the leather jacket fit Jiho well and wondering why the guy's hair was all floppy and not gelled back like earlier.

"So...Taeshik. How's life?"

Was the guy a fucking idiot? Taeshik glared at Jiho, but he was too busy stuffing his face to notice the effort. "...What the fuck're you here for?"

"Part-time delivery job~" Jiho answered readily and dug into the cake again and Taeshik could only watch in confused fascination as pieces rapidly disappeared behind the guy's lips.

"You do know what kinda bar this is."

"Of course."

It was late enough in the night that more patrons were starting to trickle in. True to its name, the quaint bar featured walls that were decorated with all sorts of well-tended greenery and rainbows of flowers. There were a couple aquariums, too. It seemed fairly low-key for a place that advertised itself as a gay bar, but then Taeshik had only one point of comparison. Most of the customers seemed like established couples of older gay men, with a few ladies in the crowd. The music wasn't deafening, the décor was classy, and the café, completely separated from the bar by a small lounge, served delicious food.

Taeshik turned away from watching Jiho's face. Checked the time on his phone. 9:46, probably a good idea to sneak back home. He abruptly reached for the wallet in his back pocket.

"You guys know each other?" Sunee asked Jiho.

"Yep! He's a...hyung, that I know."

Leaving a couple ₩50,000 bills on the counter, Taeshik slid off the barstool. He could make the walk, of course he could...his knees buckled on the fourth step and he scrambled for a hold on the counter.

"Whoa there..." Warm, firm hands grabbed Taeshik's arm and side, just as he felt the cold marble of the bar top under his hand.

"Sshi—fuck off!" he growled, shrugging off the support.

"Chill, man," Jiho said easily, backing off. "Just want to help."

"The fuck d'you even care?" Taeshik muttered, making his way unsteadily to the back-alley exit.

Wobbling away under the the subdued alley lights, his shoulder brushing against the brick wall with each step, Taeshik barely made it a few feet away from the door before Jiho's voice rammed into his head.

"Hey, Taeshik! Slow down!"

"Whu—" Taeshik halted and swayed precariously for a moment, then, bracing himself against the wall, turned to frown at Jiho. "...'re you stalking me?!"

Jiho stopped, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "The least I should do when you're my "hyung" now is make sure you're going to be safe."

Lip curled slightly, Taeshik just squinted at Jiho. Then he turned and wordlessly walked away. Jiho trailed after him.

They left the alley, and Taeshik almost tripped over the leg of a salary man sitting against the wall, empty bottle of soju in hand. Jiho snickered and remarked, "You might end up like him, but I'm sure your parents wouldn't like it if you spent your night in the streets."

Taeshik ignored him.

He crossed a narrow street without even checking for cars, while Jiho admonished, "You should be more careful!"

The silence on the other end didn't seem to deter Jiho, who kept up the one-sided conversation. Taeshik was getting a bit more pissed, now that the fresh, chilly air was starting to clear his head.

"You should probably take a taxi home. Let me hail one for you. Or...wait! Don't you Shinjung guys all have chauffeurs?"

"I'm walking," Taeshik finally growled out, refusing to look back at the irritant. "You. Are fucking off."

"You can barely walk straight." The words were like pebbles lightly thrown at his head. Annoying as fuck. "I don't want you to trip and break your head open."

"Holy fu—" Taeshik bit out, stopped, and glared back at Jiho. " _Shut_ the fuck _up_ , you fucking weirdo!"

Without skipping a beat, a sparkling smile gracing his serene face, Jiho said, "And you seriously need to wash out that vulgar mouth of yours."

Taeshik let out a loud, resigned sigh. "Don't you've anything better to do than bother people?"

"Not really." Jiho fell into step beside Taeshik. "Guess that makes me as pathetic as you, sitting alone at the bar, drinking yourself under. At least you weren't trying to pick up guys in your condition. They're all too old for you anyway, and probably uninterested."

The oblivious words were like needles poking into his already battered heart. Taeshik didn't know why they hurt so much—they were true, after all. But his throat closed up, and his eyes stung a little. "Just...stop talking, fucking hell..." he ground out, voice thick and unsteady.

Taeshik had stopped walking. Jiho belatedly realized this and backtracked to see Taeshik rubbing at his eyes. A beat. Then a soft, "Hey..." Jiho's pat on the shoulder was awkward as he continued gently, "Hey, Taeshik. I'm sorry, I'm just playing, man..."

Taeshik sighed, furiously getting himself under control, while dizziness forced him to sit down on the curb. Jiho followed silently. Taeshik folded his arms on his knees and propped his chin there, eyes closed. He took in several deep breaths. The heat from the alcohol was dissipating already, he didn't know whether his alcohol tolerance was a gift or a curse, and a gust of chill air made goosebumps rise along his forearms, which were bare from having his sleeves rolled up. A chattering group of guys walked by behind him. A lone car puttered along on the road in front. Crickets chirped.

A few minutes went by like that, before Jiho said softly, "I am serious about not letting you walk alone."

"Do I fucking look helpless to you? 'm not some girl who needs a damn escort home."

"Well, high school girls wouldn't be stupid enough to get this drunk alone, least of all on a school night."

"Ugh. Whatever."

Taeshik rested his head for a few more seconds. His ass was getting cold...

He stood up and swayed a bit before using Jiho's shoulder as a prop. "Just. Stop talking if you're gonna tag along."

They walked together, Jiho actually listening to Taeshik's warning. The night was still young, though, just starting for many people, and the sounds of Busan nightlife accompanied their wordless stroll. Half-drunk salarymen were already carousing the streets. Signs for restaurants, bars, and nightclubs flashed brightly. People were making late-night trips to convenience stores. There were a few incidents of Taeshik tripping over himself and Jiho catching him as they walked on until the urban setting slowly eased to a park and the suburban hills ahead.

Most of the alcohol was gone from his system by the time Taeshik sat down on a park bench. He tilted his head back to look at the stars—or whatever could be seen of them. It was too close to the city to escape the light pollution. His breath fogged in the air. Next to him, Jiho quietly admired the silhouette of the trees and the pagoda sitting in the middle of the small lake.

After a few minutes, Taeshik sat up straight. "My place is up that way," he jerked his thumb at the ascending hill. This area in general was where many of the fancy, modern mansions were congregated; Jiho wasn't surprised. "Thanks. For escorting me home, I suppose."

"We kinda got off to a bad start, didn't we?" Jiho asked. "Running into you twice today though, must be fate or something," he remarked, smiling wryly at his own cheesiness. Then he looked at Taeshik. "Why don't we start over?"

Starting over sounded like a perfectly fine thing right now.

Jiho stretched out a hand. "My name is Mun Jiho, 2nd year at Hwaran High...and I like to annoy drunk Shinjung kids."

Taeshik snorted and shook Jiho's hand. "Kim Taeshik. Shinjung Academy 2nd year."

"It's nice to formally meet you, Taeshik."

"...Likewise."

Jiho stood up. "I'll see you around again, maybe?"

"Yeah..."

"Good night, Taeshik."

With that, he jogged away, leaving Taeshik to relax on the bench for a few more minutes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noona (누나) = "elder sister" as used by males to address females; often used outside of blood relations by males addressing any older (but still young) female, if relationship hierarchies are known
> 
> sunbae (선배) = "senior" (= "senpai" for people familiar with Japanese), a polite/formal way to address a hyung/noona in the grade(s) above you in school
> 
> sagyejeol (사계절) = "four seasons"
> 
> hyung (형) = "elder brother" as used by males to address males (cf. noona); often used outside of blood relations by males addressing any older male (if the age difference isn't huge)
> 
> ₩ = symbol for the "won" (원, Korean currency); for simplicity's sake, ₩50,000 = $50


	3. Week 2, March, Mon - Fri: Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning of the chapter contains some homophobic slurs.

**주 2, 3월, 월 – 금: Routine**

* * *

Taeshik had been absently staring down at the polished wood floor of the hallway when he lightly bumped shoulders with Ilgwon. He stepped aside quickly to let the 3rd-year past. Ilgwon said nothing as he gave Taeshik an unreadable look and continued walking. Juyeon was right behind his classmate, but he kept his eyes straight ahead. The rest of the 3rd-year group followed Juyeon up the stairs to their floor, a few of them elbowing each other and glancing back at the weird 2nd-year.

Letting out a breath that he didn't notice he'd been holding, Taeshik stopped watching Juyeon's back. He'd ended up not replying to Juyeon's text over the weekend, so he wasn't really surprised Juyeon was ignoring his existence. But it still hurt, for some stupid reason.

When he entered his homeroom, the chattering stuttered for a moment, and he could feel several pairs of eyes tracking him as he made his way to his window-side desk. He sat down and took out his notebook, stared at the calming green view of the sunlit school grounds below as he click-click-clicked his pen. He pointedly ignored the other students and started doodling.

"I heard he was caught sucking dick last week between classes." The comment, ostensibly directed to the four other guys around him, belonged to Min Hyunwoo, the school's handsome track-and-field star.

The gossiping crowd was casually drifting over to Taeshik's desk. "Ugh. That's fucking sick, man!"

"Well, it's not like it's a secret the halfie's a homo," another one gave his useless input. "I didn't know he was such a slut, though."

The whole class sort of tittered. One of the girls across the room, with a look of dainty annoyance on her perfectly dolled-up face, said, "Oh my god, you guys are so crass."

"Just couldn't wait 'til school was over," Hyunwoo stopped in front of Taeshik and half-sat on his desk, "couldn't he?" Ink slashed across the page as Taeshik's hand clenched. "He should trim his hair," he went on, flicking a lock of Taeshik's hair. "People will think he  _actually_ wants to be a girl."

"Oy, you might get infected, touching a faggot like that."

"Shit, you're right!" Hyunwoo snickered and snatched his hand away.

Taeshik rolled his eyes. Fucking morons. "Get lost."

"Or what, you'll tell your daddy?" Hyunwoo looked sarcastically amused. With his father being the owner of one of the largest tech conglomerates in Korea, Hyunwoo's family was one of the very few residing in Busan whose net worth was even higher than those of Taeshik's. The guy didn't even need to be good-looking or a track star to get his ass kissed by so many students.

"Go choke on your lackeys' dicks, Hyunwoo," Mina's strong, clear voice cut through the tense silence.

Hyunwoo's entire face twitched and he turned around to scowl at the short, pretty co-captain of the judo club.

"You know," she went on, "so I can get to my desk." When Hyunwoo gave her a humorless smile, she mirrored his expression.

"Hwang Mina, still talking shit, huh? You'll never find a good husband with that mouth of yours, princess."

Mina just raised an eyebrow. The bell rang right then, signaling the start of first period, while the instructor entered the classroom. Hyunwoo dropped his gaze first, apparently brushing away the insult. He and the rest of the students went back to their seats, and the tension from Taeshik's body abruptly uncoiled.

"What a bunch of idiots," Mina muttered, sitting down primly at the desk next to Taeshik's.

"Hmm." The morning ruined, Taeshik just wanted to say fuck everything and skip classes. But he'd promised to be a diligent student, as long as father was funding his art classes... He slid a bit down in his seat, looking out the window, doodles forgotten, while the teacher started to drone on in the background.

* * *

_It was snowing._

_Fat, white flakes flurried against the windshield, brushed across Jiho's vision behind the window. 'It never snows in Busan,' he thought. The sky was muted, the trees a dark blur as the car rolled by noiselessly. The silence was grey and empty, with not even the rumble of car engines to break it._

_Jiho's eyes were closing. His forehead didn't feel cold even though it was pressed against the window. Dad murmured something beside him, but he couldn't discern what._

_It was peaceful, warm and heavy and noiseless._

_A faint white light broke the stillness of the rolling scene. Then two blinding points sublimed the dense silence with a terrible crunch into weightless chaos _—__

The abrupt confusion and an intense pain in his right arm forced Jiho awake.

Tears leaked from his eyes as he clutched his cramping arm and sat up, gritting his teeth. Concentrating on the sensation of jagged bumps of surgical scars under his fingertips, Jiho tried to calm his breathing.

The accident had been over a year ago, and he'd been extremely lucky to get away with only a broken arm, several cracked ribs, and a concussion.

After the surgeries to fix the multiple fractures and accompanying nerve damage in his right arm, it had taken two long, frustrating months for the bones to heal completely and another month for the partial numbness to disappear. He'd been diligent with rehab, and he was still doing physical therapy exercises to maintain strength in his hand and arm, but these cramps happened more than he liked.

The cramps, though, he'd become resigned to expect every other week, but the dream-memory...he felt a headache coming on to replace the lightheadedness. 'I thought I was over this...'

He watched the clock absently as he massaged his arm. 4:08...4:09...4:10... The pain eased to ignorable levels and then finally to a dull, residual ache. Jiho fell back into the mattress, flexing his fingers again and again. Sleep didn't come back to him until an hour later.

He predictably missed the 6:15 alarm, blearily waking up at 8-ish. For a couple minutes, he stayed in bed and considered skipping. But...the part of him that didn't give a damn wasn't convincing enough to make him want to miss the biology quiz today. Every graded assignment counted, even if sitting in on lessons didn't. He heaved himself out of the bed and quickly went through the motions. His arm was still a bit stiff. He didn't bother with hair gel today, and he was halfway to school when he realized and shrugged off the fact that he'd forgotten his tie.

Halfway through Tuesday's 1st period in Room 2-2, Jiho made his disruptive appearance.

Mr. Hwan, Jiho's homeroom and English teacher, had an annoyed expression behind his thin glasses. " _You're late. Again. It hasn't even been two weeks into the new school year,_ " he said in English, eyes taking in Jiho's appearance. " _And sloppy attire, even for you._ "

At the threshold, Jiho bowed his head and muttered, "Sorry, teach."

Mr. Hwan crossed his arms and tapped at his shoulder with his pointing stick. " _In English,_ Jiho."

He straightened up slowly. " _I'm sorry, Mr. Hwan_ ," he said automatically and headed for his seat.

"Wow, no facetious remarks today," he commented half-seriously, raising an eyebrow.

Jiho tossed his backpack under desk and plopped down on the chair. He forced a weak smirk as he looked at his teacher. " _I'm sorry. However, I can't promise I will not do it again._ "

"Just get your book out," Mr. Hwan said and resumed the lesson. Jiho didn't listen, of course. He propped his head on his arm to start napping.

Geon muttered from the desk beside him, "You okay?"

"Yup," Jiho murmured, giving his friend a reassuring smile before closing his eyes. 

* * *

The bell tinkled merrily in the background. Taeshik, busy with his assignment at the two-person table he'd taken charge of over an hour ago, vaguely registered it. He absently took a bite of his sandwich when a too-familiar voice somewhere above his head addressed him.

"So, we do meet again."

He blinked and looked up...and up. Jiho stood there, all 6-foot-something of him, with his leather jacket and floppy hair. He had a heaping plate of chicken salad in one hand, and utensils and a cup of water in the other. "What...are you doing here?"

Jiho invited himself to the seat across from Taeshik, setting down his meal and shrugging off his duffel bag and jacket. "Good evening to you too, Taeshik." He got comfortable in his cushioned wicker chair.

The pencil in Taeshik's hand was still poised above his sketchbook. He wasn't sure what to do... "Yeah...hi, Jiho."

Jiho smiled brightly. It wasn't the annoyingly fake sparkly smile Taeshik vaguely remembered from last time, though. "I'm just stopping by after work for free food."

"...Free?" Taeshik ventured, not exactly sure about having a conversation with the guy he'd punched and then got embarrassingly drunk in front of.

"It's one of the perks of working part-time for Sunee-noona. She owns this place," he replied, gesturing vaguely with the fork before digging in. "Well, that, and she's my mom's cousin."

Taeshik hesitated, and then put his pencil back to the paper...

And Jiho started talking again. "I haven't really seen you here before—you a regular here?"

Taeshik put down the pencil to finish up his own dinner. "I will be. This place is nice." Right next to his art studio, with a convenient bar at the other side of the building, tasty food and good coffee, and calming greenery, it was a preferable alternative to school, or the library.

"Then I guess we'll totally run into each other more often," Jiho said, smiling.

Taeshik couldn't help it, a smirk tugged up the corner of his mouth. "I'm not sure that's a good thing."

"Aww, don't be so cold-hearted. We're acquaintances, remember?" Jiho glanced around and put a hand up to his face in a conspiratorial gesture. He leaned in a bit to stage-whisper at Taeshik—not that anyone was near enough to hear even with the faint background music—"I even made an excuse for you last time, lying to noona that you were my 'hyung' and all."

"Too bad I can't remember."

"Not sure if I fooled her, though. I can't believe you weren't caught," he said in a low voice, gulping his drink. "She's usually good about checking ID. Maybe it's because you're a halfie..." he trailed off, then focused on Taeshik again. "You're a 2nd year, but how old exactly are you?"

"I turn 17 next month," Taeshik replied after swallowing the last bite of his sandwich.

"Huh. So...technically  _I'm_  you're hyung."

Taeshik snorted. "I'm not going to use jondaemal with you."

"So rude," Jiho said playfully. "Don't they teach you proper etiquette at your elite school?"

"We're both 2nd years," Taeshik shot back. "A few months' age difference doesn't matter."

Jiho snickered. "I guess you wouldn't be used to talking up to us common folk."

"I—no!" Ducking his head, Taeshik fidgeted with his cup of water. He muttered, "It's not that..."

"You were quite clear about what you thought of me last week." Jiho sounded serious...

"Look..." Taeshik sighed and glanced up at a blank-faced Jiho—and damn if the guy didn't look fucking intimidating. "I'm sorry, okay?" He looked down again. "Forget the crap I said on Friday."

There was a short silence, and then Jiho was all smiles again. "Man, I'm just teasing you," he said softly. "You looked pretty stressed about something. Gotta vent somehow."

Taeshik only shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it more than necessary. "Don't you have hagwon or something?"

"Nah, my day is done," Jiho easily accepted the unsubtle topic change. "How about you?"

"Just came back from Studio Oak."

"Ohhh, so you're an artist," he murmured, glancing at the sketchbook that Taeshik had set aside. He raised his eyebrows. "You're really good."

"Thanks. I..." Why was he talking so much? "I'm going to be an animator."

Jiho chuckled. "What, instead of  _owning_  an entire animation studio?"

"I don't really have a head for business, as much as my father wishes I did."

Jiho didn't say anything to that, and there was a lull in the conversation then, as both of them took the time to drink some water. Taeshik picked up his pencil again, a new idea suddenly coming to him, he didn't want to lose the train of thought.

"You're a pretty decent guy, without the prickly bits and dirty mouth," Jiho remarked, aimlessly carding his fork through his half-finished salad.

"Hnph. It's only proper to respond when you insist on yapping away at me..." Taeshik trailed off, already engrossed in his storyboarding assignment.

After shoveling the rest of the salad into his mouth, Jiho took out his own books and went through his notes.

They met up again, unplanned, on Friday evening, to eat and work on their respective assignments and even talk about random happenings at school. Typical, familiar, and comfortable...this thing—whatever it was—between them was threatening to become something like routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noona (누나) = "elder sister" as used by males to address females
> 
> hyung (형) = "elder brother" as used by males to address males (cf. noona)
> 
> jondaemal (존댓말) = "polite/respectful speech"; if you're actually curious about the linguistics of hierarchical Korean grammar, Google "Korean speech levels" or "jondaemal" or "Korean honorifics"
> 
> hagwon (학원) = "cram schools" that are prevalent in Korea; they provide supplementary or remedial education and/or help improve test scores


	4. Week 3, March, Mon - Thurs: Seokjun

**주 3, 3월, 월 – 목: Seokjun**

* * *

"Is that you, Jiho?"

Jiho whirled around, eyes wide. The familiar husky voice washed over Jiho and for a split second, as cheesy as it was, he felt something undefinable and light, brightening his soul like sunshine in the first day of spring. He'd been puttering about the fish market, looking for fresh ingredients for a nice dinner, since his Monday afternoons were free. But he hadn't expected... 

"S-Seokjun-hyung!? You're back!"

Feet rooted to the asphalt, Jiho bit back whatever stuttering words might've mindlessly tumbled out next. No need to get so worked up... 

He dragged his eyes up Seokjun's approaching figure, noting the easy gait, tracing the lines of the narrow torso and straight posture under a clinging t-shirt. The regulation military buzz cut was starting to grow back. His sharp jaw was dusted with light, even stubble, interrupted only by the faint scar at the left curve of his chin. Jiho felt a bit warm as his gaze lingered, there was a weird flutter in his stomach putting him off-balance and—

Jiho mentally slapped himself and cleared his throat. "It's been a while, hyung."

"It's been two years. How can you be so cold to your hyung?" Seokjun asked plaintively, but the faint laugh lines around his bright eyes crinkled behind thin-wire glasses. He stopped a couple feet away. "Jiho is all grown up now, acting so cool~ And you're taller than me now. I'm jealous."

Jiho felt his face heat as Seokjun pulled him into a brotherly hug. He held on for a beat longer than what was appropriate before pulling away. Not trusting his hands, Jiho fumbled and held onto the straps of his backpack. "I really, really missed you, hyung. You never called or emailed or anything—I mean, not that I think you were obligated to—but—um..." he trailed off, looking at his feet.

"I missed you too, Jiho. I'm sorry I didn't keep in touch," Seokjun said. "You'll forgive me, right?"

Of course that went without saying. "You have time to catch up today? I'm going to make hotpot, maybe you could come over? Eat with me and mom, she'll be happy to see you."

Seokjun laughed softly. "I'd be happy to. Let me grab my jacket first."

* * *

Taeshik was sitting at his usual corner table, drawing absently. The last few pages were covered in quick, fluid pen sketches of the café's interior, and he was now working on more technical pencil illustrations.

Backgrounds and architecture were still his weakest point, but he was getting much better at them, ever since he'd started sticking to a schedule of finishing at least two building interior illustrations a week. Still, he couldn't help but sketch an animation sequence—for now, just a generic walk cycle of an indistinct manhwa character—in the bottom left corner of the pages.

He looked up when the bell tinkled, and his heart skipped a beat. He swept his eyes up the long legs and lean torso of the guy who had so abruptly eased into his life.

Jiho was right on schedule for his Wednesday delivery. Taeshik waved at him.

But...today was apparently not going to follow the sort-of routine that he thought might have crept up on them. Jiho gave a hurried greeting but didn't stop by Taeshik's table, and instead disappeared into the bar area to drop off his package. He was back within seconds and whirlwinded out the café entrance in the next second.

Shrugging mentally, Taeshik went back to his animation sequence, pen rapidly scratching across the paper to capture the particular way Jiho had stridden out.

* * *

Jiho's motorcycle screeched to a halt in front of Seokjun's house. After taking it to his work at the taekwondojang and then making his delivery to Sunee, he hadn't had time to leave it at home. With his helmet tucked under one arm and the other arm merrily swinging a bag full of snacks, Jiho bounded up the stairs.

Together, he and Seokjun finished rearranging all of the furniture on the first floor and had gotten started on the second floor. Jiho had insisted on helping, after his hyung had mentioned on Monday that he'd use the week before going back to university to organize the house. "Make it suitable for a solitary bachelor," he'd said with a crooked smile. After cleaning the second floor, the only big thing left was the roof: the garden that took up half the rooftop was full of weeds from neglect and needed to be renovated, and the old, rusty clothesline posts had to be taken down and replaced.

The windows were open to air out the house, letting in the chilly night air and the bustling noise of trucks, vendors packing up their wares, and stray drunken passersby. Seokjun and Jiho sat on the comfortably heated floor of Seokjun's bedroom, soju and snacks spread before them. The television, volume low, added to the background noise.

"You learned to drink while I was away, huh?" Seokjun asked as he watched Jiho bring a cup to his lips.

Jiho drained the soju in one gulp. "I'm in high school, hyung."

"That's what I'm saying. Still, you shouldn't be drinking on a school night.  _I_  shouldn't be encouraging a minor like this."

"Since when does anyone care about underage drinking?" Jiho laughed a bit. Giving Seokjun an insolent look, he added, "And unlike you, old man, I'm resilient."

"That's offensive," Seokjun said cheerfully. "You're my dongsaeng, but you're not  _that_  much younger."

Jiho's eyes fixed on Seokjun's throat as he knocked back the rest of his soju. When he leaned forward to pour more for his hyung, his helpless gaze settled on Seokjun's sturdy, bony hand, on the long fingers delicately holding the shot glass. For a moment, Jiho wondered how those callused hands would feel, on his stomach, on his back...without any clothes to—...

Right now was definitely not the time to realize that he maybe just  _might_  be afflicted with...with hormones, or something. _No_ time was the right time to think about things like that. He didn't think his hyung's return would trigger a reaction like this—what was wrong with him?

Glass clinked as Jiho reacted half a second too late, almost overflowing the small shot glass. He nearly dropped the bottle, swallowed, eyes skittering away.

"When you start classes, you won't have time for me anymore, again," Jiho pouted, trying to banish all the impure images from his mind.

They had been increasingly distracting him since his hyung's arrival. He couldn't stop them from occasionally invading his concentration at school; it was annoying, and the fact that he had so little control over it all was just a bit frightening. Rigorous exercise helped, making him fall asleep before he got to thinking too much in bed. But every time he looked at Seokjun...

Jiho kept his eyes on the floor as he nibbled a dried squid leg.

"I should be the one saying that. A busy high schooler doesn't have time for a guy like me."

"I'd totally make time for you, hyung," Jiho mumbled slowly. It was starting to get harder to think. "Even though you aren't—I know you're—I'm not really your best friend, or your first anything, or whatever."

"Hey...I really am sorry I didn't visit during my leaves."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, stop apologizing."

"Anyway, you should use that time you have to focus on your studies. Aim for SNU. It's doable for a smart kid like you."

Jiho shrugged. "I don't care about that."

Those words made Seokjun frown. "As your hyung, I care. What the hell happened?"

"It's just not a big deal anymore."

"But...that's been your goal since primary school..." Seokjun trailed off, soju glass still suspended halfway to his mouth. He put down his drink when Jiho didn't say anything. "You can't spend high school aimlessly, without a plan for the future."

"Hyung...just because  _you_  knew what you wanted to do doesn't mean everyone does." Jiho gulped down another shot of soju and blankly stared through the lifted glass. "Things will work out."

"Yeah," Seokjun sighed, "you're a real hotshot, the world is  _totally_  on your side."

"It is. I'm still alive, and you're here. That's gotta count for something." Jiho leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, and laughed quietly. "Hahhh... Life is good."

"Looks like you've been doing perfectly fine without me," Seokjun commented softly.

"Not perfectly..."

They poured soju for each other and tipped their glasses back. Tinny laughter from the TV program chased the burn down their throats.

"It's good to have you back...life's not worth enjoying without you."

Seokjun just snorted lightly at that. Then the minutes ticked by, both of them watching the program.

Glass glinted in the flickering lights of the TV as Jiho rolled his cup between his fingers. His slightly bleary gaze moved from the glass to the TV, then to Seokjun. In that moment, he felt an overwhelming affection, and an irrepressible _need_  to... His lips tightened slightly, and then he spoke.

"Hyung. I love you."

Seokjun looked away from the TV and gasped out a laugh. "What the heck? I should hope you do. You're my favorite dongsaeng."

"You're my favorite hyung."

"Alcohol makes you silly," Seokjun said, smiling, though he did narrow his eyes at the collection of five empty bottles. "Hmm... Maybe we should stop."

He didn't notice when Jiho resolutely put down his cup and shifted.

"I mean, I'm not the most loaded university student, even with income from renting out this building. I should save the alcohol when I ca—"

A sloppy closed-mouth kiss cut him off, knocked his head back into the wall, and hands settled on his thighs. Utterly stunned and jolted out of the buzz from the alcohol, Seokjun forgot to react—how to react—for a few seconds. Then he grabbed the top of Jiho's arms and shoved.

"I really... _really_  like you, Seokjun-hyung," Jiho whispered earnestly. His fingers curled around Seokjun's knees.

Seokjun didn't let go of Jiho, keeping him at arm's length. "We  _definitely_  should stop drinking," he said gently.

They looked at each for a long time with tense silence between them, until Jiho's face contorted in mortified realization.

"Sorry...!" he gasped out, snatching his hands away, "Oh shit, I'm sorry!" He scrambled back and kneeled in contrition, fists in his lap and his head bowed low. "I don't know why I—! Please don't hate me, hyung."

Rubbing his forehead, Seokjun sighed. "I couldn't hate you, Jiho, ever." He picked up his glass and fiddled with it. "You're just...this is...it's just a phase. Look at me, Jiho. I'm sorry—I can't return your feelings. Even if I could, I don't think it's a good idea. You'll see, the...the novelty will wear off."

"...You think so?" Jiho didn't think so.

"Yeah. Of course..." Seokjun trailed off, and then rallied with a shaky grin, "I mean, you're practically my little brother. I can understand how a bit of hero-worship for your awesome hyung might get confused with something else."

"I'm sorry," Jiho muttered again, picking himself up. "I'm just—I'm gonna go home now."

"You are  _not_  riding that bike drunk," Seokjun snapped, still sitting on the floor. "You're going to sleep off the alcohol here. It'll be a sleepover, like old times, okay?"

"Won't it be awkward? For you? I mean, I practically assaulted you," the last part was mumbled near inaudibly.

"I know what assault entails, and that was not it."

"But—"

"You're completely harmless, Jiho."

Jiho's feet were rooted at the threshold of the wooden door that separated the bedroom from the living room. He looked like he wanted to melt into the wall.

Seokjun sighed. "Just...look, I'll feel a lot better if you obeyed your hyung, all right? Go wash up, I'll get the blankets ready. You have school tomorrow, and I'm tired too, so we'll call it a night."

When Jiho came out of the bathroom, the extra blankets had been set up right next to Seokjun's in his bedroom. He took one look and marched over to take the bedding out to the living room, where the floor wasn't heated but that fact wasn't even worth considering. 

They weren't kids anymore, to be sleeping next to each other, and after Jiho's absolute lapse in judgment, Seokjun shouldn't even consider having Jiho sleep in his home. It frustrated him that his hyung didn't seem to be taking much of what happened seriously, but at the same time...Jiho was glad. He was tired. And he wanted to be close to Seokjun. Just...not that close.

Well, he _wanted_ to be even closer, but Seokjun had said no, and he wouldn't— _couldn't_ disobey his hyung. 

Settled into the plush blankets on the floor, Jiho covered his burning face with his hands and sighed. 'What the  _hell_  were you thinking?' his mind repeated miserably as he cocooned himself. He was never getting drunk ever again... 

* * *

Jiho groggily opened his eyes, wondering for a second where he was. Faint dawn light was barely starting to creep through the curtains, and...why...why exactly was he awake right now?

He rolled onto his back and stretched languidly. His head ached a bit, but otherwise he was fine.

A few minutes of blank staring and calm breathing—and maybe one moment of reliving the embarrassment from last night—and then he got up and peered through the half-open bedroom door to see Seokjun, wrapped up in blankets. Jiho bit his lip, smiling, and slid the door closed.

After gulping down two cups of water, Jiho checked the refrigerator and determined that he had enough ingredients and time to make a simple breakfast.

He placed frozen mussels under running water to thaw, left some dried seaweed to soak, and quickly washed the rice and set it to cook in the rice cooker. Then he stepped lightly into the bathroom to relieve himself and wash up. 

For the next hour, he immersed himself in his cooking routine, eating bits and pieces while he made the food. He washed the dishes and pans. Then he set the side dishes he'd cooked on the small dinner table, lightly covering them with plastic wrap. There was enough miyeokguk in the pot to last through the next day for Seokjun, and extra rolled-omelets and spam were packed in tupperware.

Seokjun was still sleeping soundly when Jiho placed a glass of water for him on the nightstand. Making sure everything was in order, Jiho grabbed his stuff and left.

* * *

Jiho noted the thumping footsteps a split second before a hand slapped the back of his head. He stuck out a foot, and Huiseob tripped but his sharp reflexes prevented his falling on his face.

Without breaking stride, Jiho turned to face his self-proclaimed "rival" who looked way too excitable for him right now. Slight fatigue from last night's imbibing had abruptly caught up to Jiho, not to mention he'd been having really distracting, really embarrassing daydreams the whole morning. He hadn't thought the situation could get worse, but he had been so wrong. After the not-kiss yesterday, it was like a floodgate of hormones had been thrown open, drowning him so suddenly that he couldn't even try breaking the surface. Before Seokjun had come back, Jiho never thought he would suffer from the inconvenience of all that silliness.

"You have the most annoying way of picking fights," he grumbled, tracking Huiseob's movements.

"It's been like a month." They circled each other, waiting to see who'd make the first move. "I'm almost tempted to say I missed you," Huiseob said, teeth bared in a shark grin.

Huiseob made the first move, darting forward and almost succeeding in throwing Jiho to the ground, but Jiho stepped aside just so and sloppily grabbed Huiseob's arms. He almost got Huiseob in a lock, but lost his grip. They exchanged punches and kicks and blocks as they made their winding path through the students who were going back to their homerooms.

"You really need to find someone else to entertain you," Jiho said, half-joking, as he blocked a punch with his forearm. "Or better yet," he growled as Huiseob caught him off guard and maneuvered him into a headlock, "focus on your studies. The first exam of the new school year and—" he jerked hard, nearly caused Huiseob to lose his hold, "—and I hear you managed to rank dead last in your class—" he cut himself off, jabbing Huiseob's side and twisting out of the headlock. Jiho took a couple bouncing steps back. "It's like you're not even trying."

Huiseob cracked his knuckles, grinning fiercely. "No point."

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot," Jiho commented flippantly, skipping backwards to avoid a punch. "You're a stellar example of your totally upstanding folks."

Before he could retaliate, Mr. Hwan interrupted their play-fight, sharply rapping both their heads with his pointing stick. "Lunch is almost over. Stop making a scene and get back to your classrooms," Mr. Hwan said blandly, arms crossed.

Huiseob rubbed the back of his skull. "We'll finish this later," he said before turning to leave.

"Yeah, sure we will," Jiho muttered, almost immediately dismissing him. He bowed his head at Mr. Hwan before entering his classroom.

The rest of the school day passed by in a blur. Jiho couldn't remember much of what the teachers said. He was too busy zoning out, and napping when not.

Math was the last class of the day that seemed to drag on forever. The teacher caught him smiling stupidly at the window, instead of responding when his name was called several times to come up to the board. Jiho was having a particularly pleasant fantasy, involving cushy blankets on the bamboo-matted floor of Seokjun's bedroom and the hyung's naked abs, listening to the cicadas and midday activity of the market outside while they just laid about—

A loud smack reverberated through the room as the teacher dropped a textbook on Jiho's desk. His chair toppled over as he shot up off his seat. The class broke into raucous laughter. "Awwww, it looks like he's in lurrrvve~" someone commented, snickering.

The laughter died down a little as Jiho—face flushed and another part of his anatomy also dangerously close to betraying him—went up to the chalkboard and solved the problem effortlessly. The teacher looked amused. "Well, it's good to know that you're not  _completely_  incapacitated," he muttered, joining in on the fun.

Jiho ducked his head, and then calmly asked, "May I use the restroom?" His right arm was starting to feel stiff, and he needed to shake off his affliction.

The guys erupted again, with a couple of them making lewd gestures. The teacher shot them a glare. Jiho's blush was mostly under control, so the dangerous, blank look that he also gave his classmates brought most of them stuttering to a stop.

He washed his face with cold water, and breathed deeply, trying to calm his nerves. He stood in front of the sink, absently flexing his wrist and hand. He really needed to get over this...

* * *

At the end of the day, Jiho was the last to exit the classroom following the daily cleaning tasks. He was halfway across the school's sprawling grounds when Huiseob, true to his word, caught Jiho off guard with a tackle that usually wasn't strong enough to topple him.

The dust settled, Jiho's backpack had skidded away somewhere to his right, and he coughed, a bit winded.

Sitting on Jiho's stomach, Huiseob peered suspiciously at Jiho. "Fuck, man, you're going down way too easy today. Why're you so distracted?"

Jiho was too busy trying to catch his breath—it wasn't easy, with the muscle-bound lump solidly settled on his abdomen.

"Wait...shit!" he jerked back, rather dramatically. "Don't tell me—it  _can't_  be true...the rumors that you're... _lovesick_?!" The only response he got to that dumb statement was a half-lidded glare, and of course he took it the wrong way. "Well, fuck  _me_ , the day has finally come. Jiho is distracted by a piece of skirt. Who's the unlucky girl?"

"Get off me before you go about regurgitating idiotic rumors." Huiseob scrambled off of Jiho, who sat up slowly and heaved himself off the dirt.

He was dusting off his uniform when Huiseob pursued the issue. "What, so you  _don't_  have a girl?"

Jiho didn't say anything as he bent down to pick up his backpack. It wasn't anyone's business, least of all Huiseob's. They'd known each other since primary school, when Jiho had beaten Huiseob for first place in the junior taekwondo regionals and they'd ended up in the same middle school afterwards. What they had was an easy rivalry that kept Jiho on his toes.

Huiseob trailed him until they reached the school gates. He latched onto Jiho's arm before he could step outside the gates. "Yo, don't leave me hanging," he whined.

"Why are you so interested anyway?" Jiho asked, looking down at Huiseob's sullen face.

"It's not every day I get to throw you so easily," he grumbled in response. Huiseob hated admitting that anyone was better at anything—well, anything physical, his academics were something else—than him. "Obviously something's up with you. Also I do miss our fights."

"Yours is the ugly mug I haven't been seeing around often," Jiho said, shaking off Huiseob's hold. "We're not best friends, so don't expect me to spill my secrets to you."

"Dude, that's just cold, real cold."

Wordless, Jiho just waved as he walked off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dongsaeng (동생) = "younger sibling"
> 
> manhwa (만화) = general Korean term for "comics/cartoons/animations"; "manga" is the equivalent Japanese term
> 
> taekwondojang (태권도장) = "taekwondo dojo/training hall"
> 
> soju (소주) = Korea's most well-known clear, distilled alcoholic beverage
> 
> miyeokguk (미역국) = "seaweed soup"


	5. Week 3, March, Friday: Proposition

**주 3, 3월, 금요일: Proposition**

* * *

_High beams lit up the shards of glass, bright pinpoints in the expanse of a cold, gray nothingness, and he was wrapped up in airless, weightless chaos within his disintegrating metal trap, the sensation too much, too familiar, he needed to open his mouth to let out a silent yell—_

_And just as suddenly the pressure turned normal, the scene shifted, and he was pulled back, down and safe into a wispy bed of clouds._

" _Shhh...calm down, Jiho, it's all right," a husky voice like heaven breathed into his ear._

_Callused hands, a nice contrast to the soft clouds he seemed to be lying on top of, gently grabbed his bare shoulders. When he lifted his own hands to hold onto strong arms he absently noted his own unscarred skin._

_A warm, solid weight settled on top of him._

_His hyung's bright eyes and easy smile were everything he would ever need, and when their bodies started to move, together in a steady rhythm, he was never so glad to be drowning..._

Jiho opened his eyes, breathing shallowly. Then he covered his eyes with his forearm.

Five days. Just five short days since Seokjun reappeared, inexplicably sparking all the nerves in Jiho's body... He felt like he was going to go crazy.

It was frustrating and stupid, being so helpless against the intense, unbidden feelings and the physical reactions to them. He hated it when his body, utterly disregarding what his mind wanted, became incapacitated, uncontrollable.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm his nerves, to focus on anything but the warmth flashing through his body. There was barely any dawn light, not that there'd be much light at all any time soon, if the soft patter of rain on the windows was any indication. Still, he had to stop waking up so early...

He glanced down at the tent in his boxers and then thumped his head back once, twice, three times. It didn't do any good, of course—the pillow cushioned his head from pain or any other distraction.

It was a couple of years since he'd tried jerking off, once, and he only vaguely recalled the bland, uninspiring finish. He couldn't even remember what he'd been envisioning to reach the eventual climax. And then schoolwork and sports, and the accident, and then rehab and work and everything else...had just made him completely uninterested. Even with the daydreams and other distractions this past week, he hadn't given in to the desire that had blindsided him, so accustomed to not attending to that aspect of his body. 

He'd thought he was one of those asexual people, or that he just had no sex drive, but it looked like he was just a late-bloomer.

Maybe...he sighed, tentatively reached and slid his hand under the light fabric...maybe today he should try again. He closed his eyes, furrowed his brow. What to think about? Girls...? Yeah, girls. With lovely curves and perky breasts and fierce, pink-lipped smiles... That was  _normal_. Expected. Not _too_ much of a corruption of morals, right?

He breathed deeply, evenly, as he stroked himself. He tried hard to hold onto the soft, rounded image of feminine curves, because it was nice, and somewhat effective. And because...he was still in denial. He didn't  _want_  to think about Seokjun that way. It felt dirty, beyond wrong, and—more importantly—after his hyung had said he wasn't interested, it felt like betrayal and utter disrespect.

But the instant his thoughts strayed to Seokjun, the image wavered, squaring the face and dusting the jaw with stubble, roughening the musculature, and—he bit his lip, groaned softly—the thought of the sheer solidity of a masculine body pinning down his own was enough for him.

After visiting the bathroom to clean up, Jiho flopped back into his bed. Guilt was eating away at him for thinking about his hyung like that. He could live with his affection for Seokjun, but not with his body disobeying him like this.

Seokjun-hyung was off-limits now, and Jiho would have to get over the lust, one way or another. Nip the problem in the bud. Completely disassociate sex from everything that was Seokjun. It was possible, right? It had to be. He just needed a suitable distraction that would help him beat away at the problem until his libido calmed down.

Maybe he needed to get a sex life. But he didn't really know where to start, especially if he had a thing for guys...

And then he finally realized, blandly and without much fanfare, that he might be gay...or swing both ways. Or maybe it was just Seokjun-hyung, and his mysterious magical power over Jiho. He wasn't sure, and he didn't really care, and he was okay with that. Huh.

He spent a few more minutes staring blankly at the dark ceiling, listening to the hypnotizing rhythm of the rain.

An idea suddenly latched onto his mind. He sat up abruptly, too keyed up to try going back to sleep.

It was a decent idea, he thought resolutely. It probably wasn't a brilliant one though, and it was probably set up for failure, but it was right there, packaged neatly in front of him. 

* * *

A wet-haired Jiho squelched over to Taeshik's table. "Hey, Jiho," Taeshik greeted, glancing up absently before attending to his sketchbook.

"Evening, Taeshik," Jiho replied and sat down, munching slowly on his sandwich. He didn't otherwise make any move to take out his homework or books. Or even take off his damp hoodie. The rain had slowed down earlier, though soft drizzles still came and went throughout the evening. 'It looks like Jiho avoided the worst of it,' the thought flitted absently through Taeshik's mind. His hand arced across the paper.

A few minutes passed by in silence, until Taeshik squirmed under the unsubtle gaze and looked up. "What?"

Jiho continued to stare at Taeshik, his almost completely eaten sandwich suspended near his mouth. "You're gay, right?"

A beat.

"Well," Taeshik said, eyes skittering down to look at the table, and took a hearty gulp of water. "That was blunt."

"I think I might be." And he sounded so calm, so matter-of-fact, like he was discussing the fucking weather, confessing that.

Taeshik kept his determined gaze on the grains of the wooden table, but he could feel his eyebrows desperately trying to make a run up to his hairline. "That's...an intriguing thought," he mumbled, his hand refusing to move, to continue his sketch.

"Is it?" Jiho asked softly.

The atmosphere between them was suddenly stifling, and awkward. The silence was too much.

"...So?"

Glass clinked softly as Taeshik fidgeted with his water cup. "So...?" It looked like Jiho wasn't going to drop the line of conversation.

"You're slept with guys before?"

Taeshik's response came out a bit too defensively. "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I whore myself to any guy that comes my way." This whole conversation was irrational.

"You've slept with  _a_  guy before," Jiho amended, leaning back in his chair with his hands raised in placation.

Taeshik dropped his pen, shifting his focus. If Jiho wanted...advice...as strange as the notion was, Taeshik would try his best to be helpful. "Yeah, I have."

"So you know how it all works."

"Yes..." he trailed off, and then he frowned.

Jiho had an odd, intent expression. It was making Taeshik anxious, for some reason.

"What of it?"

Jiho licked his lips, a finger lightly swiping up the condensation on his cup, before he set his hand palm-down on the table. He shot a challenging look straight at Taeshik. "Wanna have sex?"

The noise in the café went mute as Taeshik looked back at Jiho.

...What...

What the fuck...was happening right now?

"W-uhh— _what_?" Apparently, Taeshik's mouth was riding the same wave as his thoughts.

"Do you want to have sex?" Jiho repeated, looking completely serious.

"Huh?" Jiho was gay? Like  _actually_  gay?

"You know...fuck. Fool around. Sleep togeth—"

"Wait!" Taeshik raised his hand. "Wait, just...stop. Hold on," he said weakly. He'd finally shaken off his bewilderment.

Jiho shut his mouth, sitting up straight and looking alert. Like an obedient oversized puppy.

When he had woken up that morning, Taeshik had been tempted to sleep in instead of sitting through the whole school day, since his wangdda status wasn't completely lifted. His bruised ribs still smarted from clumsily tripping over Hyunwoo's foot and crashing into the edge of the cafeteria table. He couldn't even get excited about the weekend because there were Saturday classes. After lunch, though, he'd brightened up, remembering that Jiho would be at the café today, hopefully not busy like he'd been on Wednesday.

He'd looked forward to sitting with his new friend—could he call Jiho his friend?—who didn't seem like a homophobic moron. They would keep mostly to themselves while they worked on their respective assignments. Nice, and easy, and comfortable. The evening was supposed to be the quiet, uneventful highlight of his day. That had been The Plan.

But then Jiho, sitting there so casually asking for sex like he could get it easily, anytime, anywhere he wanted...the guy just  _had_  to stir up shit, throwing a completely unexpected situation at Taeshik's face. He wished he'd stayed in, pleaded sick.

"Wow. You sure are really direct about things. Is this how you normally handle a relationship?"

Jiho shrugged. "I wouldn't know, you'd be my first."

"Really now," Taeshik muttered, skeptical. "We've only known each other for...two weeks or so."

"It's not like we need to know each other's deepest secrets, or  _like_  like each other to have sex. It'll just be physical. You know, stress-relief sort of stuff."

Taeshik stared uncomprehendingly at Jiho.

"Look, I don't want a 'relationship' or whatever," Jiho murmured, in contrast to his initial boldness. He glanced down before meeting Taeshik's eyes again. "I just need an outlet for all these annoying hormones."

"Uh huh, 'stress relief'—yeah," Taeshik muttered, leaning back in his chair. "That's kind of...a really cavalier view of things."

Jiho shrugged. "It's possible to separate feelings and sex. Compartmentalization. Sex here," he gestured with both hands, "feelings there. And, well, you're gay."

Eyes closed, Taeshik breathed deeply. For some idiotic reason during the conversation, his heartbeat had gone up a notch. His libido was clamoring for attention, and he was already thinking about the possibilities...no. Nope. Focus.

"Like I said, just because I'm gay doesn't mean I want to go around fucking guys indiscriminately. You ever stop to think that maybe not everyone thinks the way you do? I'm pretty sure there has to be some kind of mutual liking for sex to happen."

"I'm pretty sure the way I think isn't uncommon with guys. Emotions can be tricky, and annoying to deal with."

After a few seconds of thought, Taeshik had to concede to that. He probably  _was_  too invested in the emotional part of a relationship. "Well...at least on  _my_  side, I have to have some positive feelings."

"What—are you saying you don't like me?" Jiho did an impressive job of looking like a kicked puppy.

"...I'm saying I don't like you in  _that way_ ," Taeshik replied coolly. Points for not showing exactly how flustered he was with the surreal exchange they were having right now.

"Brrr, so cold."

"Hey. You're the one being heartless here." He glared halfheartedly at Jiho. "You're such an ass sometimes, you know that?"

An easy smile. "Can't help it."

"More importantly..." Taeshik sighed, paused to gulp down the rest of his water. "Are—are you sure you're gay? Do you even know what you're asking for right now?"

Jiho raised a loose fist. "Considering the fact that I just got rejected by this totally awesome hyung I love," he uncurled his thumb, "and the fact that I've been having some, uh, interesting dreams," his index finger went up, "and that I'm propositioning you right now," and finally his middle finger. "Probably?"

"Oh my god," Taeshik muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "I feel soooo damn special right now."

Propping his chin on his palm, Jiho asked cheekily, "You gonna make me go find some other gay guy?"

Eyes narrowed, Taeshik nodded slowly as he said, "I should make you do that, yeah."

"It's going to take too long to butter up some other guy, especially if he's all about emotions and liking and romance and whatever," Jiho remarked, rolling his eyes. He finally looked a bit frustrated, a small frown creasing his brow as looked at Taeshik. "Come on, I'm not  _that_  hideous, am I?"

No, no he wasn't. In fact, "cute" was the best description for Jiho's face (when it wasn't all poker-faced and menacing). And "hot" for everything below it.

But that wasn't the point!

"Didn't I  _just_  say it's not about superficial shit?"

"And I'm saying superficialities are enough for fooling around."

"Fucking hell. Your existence should be an offense right now...but strangely your brand of honesty makes it hard for me to be all that angry."

In a flash, Jiho's expression shifted to one of anticipation.

Taeshik felt his resolve crumbling. He didn't even know what was holding him back, because if he were _really_ honest with himself, he missed sex. He still missed Juyeon in particular, but it was the physical intimacy with another person that he really wanted at this point. Damn hormones.

The music played on in the background, over the light chattering buzz of the other patrons. Jiho and Taeshik stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Taeshik leaned back into the couch, eyes closed and head tilted back as he let out a long sigh. "All right.  _Fine_."

Jiho smiled. "Just sex."

"No...couple-y things," Taeshik affirmed, slowly.

"Deal?"

Taeshik looked at Jiho. He was probably exactly the kind of carefree guy Taeshik _wouldn't_ be so stupid to fall for...

"Yeah. Deal."

And why not, he'd had shit luck with boyfriends. Maybe a...a fuck buddy—his brain curdled at the sheer amorality of that—was a safer option.

"Great," Jiho said, standing up to take his empty cup to the counter. "You know any place we can go to?"

It was like he was stuck in honey. Taeshik's movements were slow as he started to pack up his belongings; he couldn't fully believe what he'd just agreed to. "Desperate, aren't you?"

"I'm not going to deny it. I just want to get this out of my system before I go nuts."

"I know a place. But don't blame me if either of us can't get into the mood."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hyung (형) = "elder brother" as used by males to address males; often used outside of blood relations by males casually addressing any older male
> 
> wangdda (왕따) = almost literally, "total exclusion from everything"; a type of social outcast in Korea, or, simply put, "loner/outsider/loser"


	6. Week 3, March, Friday: Love Hotel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much all smut, if the chapter title didn't give it away.

**주 3, 3월, 금요일: Love Hotel**

* * *

The motorcycle rumbled to a stop as Jiho chose a parking spot and turned off his bike. Taeshik jumped off and hastily ran his fingers through his windswept hair. There wasn't a second helmet, but Taeshik didn't mind. They hadn't gone fast, since they stuck to local roads that were still wet from the rain; the slight exhilaration, the chill night air whipping around him, and the warmth from holding onto Jiho...that had been a heady combination.

Jiho took off his helmet and was double-checking that the back compartment was locked when Taeshik hurried into S Hotel's lobby to pay for a room. The S Hotel had been his go-to place with Juyeon...his heart still clenched when he thought about the senior, but he shook off the melancholy. The VIP rooms here were decent, for ₩80,000—neat, roomy, and cozy, with a sleek, black-and-white interior design. Taeshik, who had a hefty allowance that he didn't use as often as he could, didn't see any reason to risk a cheaper room, and he didn't want to make Jiho pay for it either.

When Jiho tried to argue with him, and then with the bored-looking receptionist, Taeshik just clapped a hand to his mouth and shoved him along to the elevators. Silence took over the space between them.

Taeshik slid the key card in its reader to unlock the door and switched on the lights. After taking off his shoes, he looked back to see Jiho balking a bit at the threshold. Biting back laughter, he grabbed Jiho's wrist to pull him into the room, then shut and locked the door.

Stepping noiselessly in his socks across the shiny white-tiled floor, Taeshik set down the complimentary toiletry set and his messenger bag on the black wall-counter, next to the neatly folded towels. He perfunctorily scanned the contents of the tray at the end of the counter: hair-dryer, hair spray, extra shampoo and soap, some magazines. The usual. Jiho was still wordless.

"All that bravado earlier, and you just now decide to be shy," Taeshik remarked, amused. He grabbed the remote control and turned on the large, flat-screen TV facing the queen-sized bed.

"Well, I do like to jump into the deep end first..." Jiho trailed off when Taeshik's eyes landed on him, turning his head away to make his own inspection of the room. His gaze lingered on the bed that Taeshik was pretty sure had well-cleaned sheets.

"Hn." He skipped all the porn channels to find something less embarrassing. Ah, a European football game, perfect. He changed the volume to unobtrusive background noise levels and set down the remote, then took off his jacket to hang it on the clothes hook near the small, round glass-top table. Looking sideways at Jiho, who was hesitantly unlacing his boots, he smirked. "Shy and awkward isn't a bad look on you, compared to your normal attitude."

"Oh?" A wide-eyed expression took over Jiho's face for a moment, before a shit-eating grin replaced it. He tossed his boots near the door and stepped forward, confidence regained, apparently. "You like it when I get all meek, hmm?" he asked, voice low and teasing, setting down his helmet and keys next to Taeshik's bag. He pulled off his hoodie to hang it next to Taeshik's jacket.

'...Fuck yeah,' the rebellious part of Taeshik's mind responded, both to the question and to the anticipation of reveling in some bare flesh after...how long had it been since he'd done this properly with Juyeon? A month?—a little over a month, five-ish weeks.

"Anyway, first step: get naked, right?" Jiho rubbed the back of his head, biting his bottom lip. "Feel free to help me out after that," he went on, fingers lightly gripping the hem of his white knit shirt that really wasn't doing much to hide the lines and planes of a lean, well-sculpted body...

"Wait, Jiho," Taeshik sighed, reigning in his libido. "Slow down. Let's do this right. Or, well, as right as I can make it." He undid his tie and tossed it on top of his bag. "It's not like I have tons of experience," he mumbled, unbuttoning his shirt as he watched Jiho, who was slowly walking over, through the mirror, "But it's your first time, and I don't want to deprive the world of a potential player just because I fucked things up and traumatized you."

"So considerate," Jiho said, standing close enough to drape an arm over Taeshik's shoulders. They held each other's gaze in the mirror as Jiho tilted his head to speak into Taeshik's ear, "You know I'm not that easy to scare."

"Right." The charged atmosphere of the room was catching up to Taeshik. He cleared his throat, grabbing a toothbrush from the bag of toiletries and pulling away, and headed for the bathroom. "I need a shower first," he said, tossing his shirt on the bed and unzipping his pants.

"Want to take it together?" Jiho piped up, trailing after him as he unwrapped his own toothbrush.

The threshold of the bathroom nearly tripped Taeshik. "Getting right on down to business, huh? You're a fucking natural."

"No, I really do need a shower," Jiho said, pulling off his shirt while Taeshik stared. He unbuckled his belt and elaborated, "Didn't get the chance to, after work."

Mostly Taeshik was staring at some great abs and the faint treasure trail peeking out above nondescript boxers...and then his attention snapped over to the lurid scars running up Jiho's right arm. He brushed aside his curiosity, because it wasn't his business, and especially not at a time like this.

"Come on, then," he muttered and entered the nicely furnished bathroom. The floor was a pattern of raised black-marble tiling with pockets of white stones—apparently therapeutic for the feet, and Jiho was delightedly stepping over them—decorating the areas surrounding the black. The lighting was just right, the bathtub roomy, and...

"Is that a hot tub? I'll have to make use of that at some point," Jiho said, chuckling.

They shed the rest of their clothing as the water from the showerhead warmed up. Jiho let out a long sigh when the steaming water hit him, and Taeshik sympathized. March nights were still little above freezing, and it was worse when you were running around in damp clothes.

Taeshik shampooed his hair, while Jiho hogged the water for a bit before finally making use of the loofah. It felt casual and friendly and natural, like they were just friends, sharing the same locker room showers or hanging out together in a sauna.

Well...they _were_  friends, Taeshik reminded himself, eyes closed, as he rinsed his hair under the spray. Nothing more complicated. That notion made him feel a lot more at ease. The impending sex was a bonus. And the aesthetics of Jiho's body...it was like the damn jackpot. Taeshik couldn't keep his eyes away, couldn't help thinking like an artist even as his hormones ran wild.

Jiho had a somewhat darker skin tone than Taeshik was used to seeing in most full-blooded Koreans; it was an awfully pleasant contrast to his own paler, pinker one. And under that skin... Taeshik had a stocky physique that he kept in good shape by jogging and going to the gym. But Jiho, in addition to being a general athlete, was a martial artist—a taekwondo black belt and a dabbler in hapkido and taichi, he'd learned from the few conversations they'd had—and it showed in his long, sinewy, and firm build.

It looked like his libido had absolutely zero problems getting into this whole thing. He was more than half-hard during the entire shower, and his nerves were constantly humming.

"Boundaries," his voice echoed, cut through the splashing of water, as he leisurely scrubbed Jiho's back. He'd almost forgotten to bring up the issue, enjoying the glorious vision of elegantly defined back musculature. "We should set up some boundaries."

Jiho stuck his head under the spray, and Taeshik delighted in the play of bone and muscle beneath his fingers as Jiho roughly rinsed the shampoo out. "What do we need boundaries for?" he asked, half turning.

"You know, to establish what you want to do, how far you're willing to go," he intoned, feeling like a teacher.

Eyes alert like he was taking mental notes, Jiho turned around completely with the water at his back. Taeshik allowed his gaze to shamelessly wander downwards, follow the lead of the grooves tapering down his hips.

"There's probably things you won't like," he went on, vaguely satisfied to see that Jiho's body didn't seem completely averse to the setting, "and as I said before, I don't actually want to scare you off."

A small frown, one eyebrow raised in confusion, had settled on Jiho's face. "What, isn't all of it basically just 'insert A into B'?"

"Well, yes. And no. I mean, there's more than that, it's not that simple..."

"No need to make it complicated," he shrugged. "Let's just...I'm open to whatever. You take the lead—do whatever you feel like. I'll tell you if I don't like something."

Right. Guidance. Taeshik was supposed to provide guidance for the virgin. It felt kind of weird, being in this role. "We can't just do what I want, though."

He pushed until they both passed through the spray, until Jiho's back hit the slick, black-tiled wall, and Taeshik felt a slight shiver run through Jiho's frame. Water was streaming down his side, and mere centimeters in front of him was a warm, open body just begging to be touched...

One hand gripping a firm shoulder, the other slipping across the wet skin of a lean thigh, Taeshik looked up into Jiho's eyes, "What do _you_ want out of this?"

"...I just want...what I really—" Jiho cut off his meandering words and chastely kissed Taeshik on the mouth. His hands reached up to finally take some liberties. "I just need to get this out of my system," he said decisively.

"Okay," Taeshik breathed, leaning into the touch, "We'll just take things as they come." 

Angling his head up, Taeshik elected to spend the next minute or so teaching Jiho how to kiss. He hadn't forgotten how much he enjoyed it, and this time all the more so because even outside the context of intimacy, Jiho's plump lips, so quick to curve up in a smile, were very, very kissable. There was the initial fumbling, the inexperience. Then, finally, the aggressively reciprocated playfulness—because fuck if Jiho was anything but audacious and confident. The thrill of it was intoxicating.

He broke away, trying to catch his breath and focus. But Jiho's hands purposefully kneaded the muscles at the base of his neck, turning his knees to jello, and he had to bury his face in Jiho's shoulder. A silly little thought, that he would have to persuade Jiho to give him a more comprehensive massage sometime, flitted through the haze in his mind. The only sound he could manage was a helpless groan, while Jiho had somehow retained the capacity to laugh at him.

Digging his fingers into Jiho's back, Taeshik reached between their bodies with his free hand to retaliate. He grinned when Jiho jerked, gasping, arms tightening around Taeshik's shoulders, and his hand went to work.

At some point, they moved to the bed, kissing and accidentally biting and laughing stupidly, skin on heated skin as they trailed water but neither of them could give a fuck about that mess. They'd barely settled on the sheets when Jiho spread his legs and pulled Taeshik down on top of him, warm hands slipping and grabbing his sides as their erections met and slid against each other.

Taeshik rocked his hips, setting the rhythm, and watched Jiho's face. He absently noted the fresh v-shaped scar on Jiho's left cheek, smiled at the dark flush and cute little frown and closed eyes, and then refocused on those lips, slightly parted and reddened. He kissed them lightly, and started a downward trail with his lips, keeping his body pressed against Jiho's erection.

The pads of his fingers glided down the well-defined bumps of the serratus. The obliques, the abs. Smoothed down the trail of hair. He draped his arm over Jiho's thigh and hip, placing the hand flat on the firm stomach as his mouth reached its final goal.

Fists clenching the sheets, Jiho let out a soft groan when Taeshik slid his tongue up the thick length. He reached and snagged one of Jiho's hands, guiding it to the top of his head. A slight sting as fingers immediately gripped, pulled at his wet hair.

Fuck...he'd kind of missed this too. Not as much as the kissing, but it was still a pleasant sensation, to have his mouth filled with cock as he jerked himself off. And the soft noises that Jiho was making, the shuddering abs beneath his palm...Jiho's fingers massaging the back of his head and neck—and that was rather new and really fucking arousing—...they were all so gratifying.

He closed his eyes. No more thinking, just feeling.

"Taeshik, hey..." Jiho warned, his voice rough and strangled, and tried to pull away, but Taeshik held on, digging his fingers into the depression that bisected Jiho's abs. He was almost...almost there...

Jiho came, his teeth gritted around a cathartic groan, and Taeshik swallowed easily, and then crawled up to kiss Jiho—and, fuck, he responded so readily—as he thrust against the pliant body underneath his once, twice. He pressed his open mouth on the pulse in Jiho's neck and spilled his load.

He spent a minute catching his breath, lying on top of Jiho, while long fingers lazily scratched the back of his head.

And then he rolled off and sat up. Jiho stretched, jaws cracking as he yawned, while Taeshik found the towel he'd thrown on the bed when they'd come out of the shower. He swiped the damp cloth over Jiho's stomach to clean off the semen.

"Thanks."

"Mhmm."

"Another round? Try something new..." Jiho said softly, turning his attention back to the TV, "But...after the game? I'm a bit of a fan," he admitted sheepishly, waving at the football players running about in the TV screen.

"Sure," Taeshik agreed. Of course he was totally fine with that. He tossed the soiled towel somewhere on the floor, and then grabbed another one to dry his hair some more before wrapping it around his hips. He raised the TV volume for Jiho before fetching his sketchbook and pencil, and then settled down in the chair at the small table to finish his assignment.

He was so engrossed that he didn't realize the game had ended, and there was no noise from the bed...

Jiho had fallen asleep, his head turned slightly towards Taeshik. The hand that lightly gripped the sheet covering one leg and half his stomach fell and rose evenly with his chest. 'He's going to have terrible bedhead when he wakes up,' he thought randomly as he looked on for a few more seconds.

Inspired, Taeshik turned to a fresh page.


	7. Week 3, March, Saturday: Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More attempts at writing smut...

**주 3, 3월, 토요일: Morning**

* * *

The mattress rocked and squeaked, pulling at the edges of Taeshik's consciousness. What...? He forced his tired eyes open, only to be greeted with fuzzy darkness. He realized that Jiho was shuffling around. He rolled onto his side and fumbled for his phone on the nightstand—5:26 AM, ugh—and then pulled up the blankets tight around him.

"Sorry," Jiho whispered, his weight lifting from the bed.

Taeshik grunted and kept his eyes shut. He'd stayed up until 2, finishing up his drawings, and there were classes today, and it probably hadn't been the best idea to stay when he wasn't used to having someone else sleep next to him...

The bathroom door clicked close, but he could hear the water flowing strong from the bath/hot tub tap. The soft slap of bare feet as Jiho came back out, a brief rustling as he put on clothes. He frowned a bit when he heard the jangle of keys, the thump of boots, and the door clicking open.

Taeshik's mind half-drifted, working frantically as it went over the reality that was his life right now.

What the fuck was he even doing?

The situation just seemed more complicated, more different, in the morning. He didn't know if staying the night had been the correct move. Either way was awkward though, when he didn't  _really_  know what to classify this thing between them. But maybe he was complicating things. He didn't want to but... No. They were friends, except now with benefits. There really was no need to make it weird between them. He owed that to Jiho and himself, after making the deal. Yeah...he knew what the fuck he was doing. Really, he did.

It seemed like only a minute had passed when the door creaked open again and Jiho went about his business.

What kind of person even used a hot tub this early? That was a much better question to dwell on.

There was splashing and soft bubbling, and then the rustle of paper. Curiosity pulled at him, beating out most of his sleepiness. He sighed and threw the sheets off. Goosebumps prickled on his naked skin as a rush of chilly air greeted him. He winced as his feet touched the tiles; he'd left the window open just a crack, and with the rain starting up again, the room was cold.

The hot tub sounded nice, actually. He drank some water from the room's water dispenser before he entered the bathroom.

Jiho looked relaxed and much too awake, studiously going through the textbook resting on the raised marble surrounding the tub. He used his dry left arm to idly thumb the pages, while his scarred right arm was propped on the seat of the tub, left to soak. "Damn," he said, looking apologetic, "I woke you up. Good morning?"

Taeshik shrugged, inviting himself into the water as Jiho shifted his legs to accommodate him, and leaned his back against the bubbling jets. "You actually went outside with your hair looking like that?" he asked, voice scratchy. He cleared his throat.

Not even looking up from his book, Jiho asked, amused, "That bad, huh?"

"You look ridiculous," Taeshik confirmed lazily, tilting his head back, eyes closed. The warm water and the jets felt nice, especially with the contrast of the slight chill wafting through the door he'd left open.

Flick... Flick... Flick...

The rhythm was constant and soothing, even as his brain was still processing and reconciling whatever the fuck was happening.

Snap. Then the sound of the textbook slapping on and skidding across the floor somewhere near the door.

"Done being a nerd?"

"There's a test today. I should at least read the material." A sigh. "Only the most evil teachers give tests on Saturdays."

Water churned wildly around Taeshik's chest. Jiho's voice sounded closer. He opened his eyes when he felt fingers drifting down his stomach. Jiho's face was close, brown eyes staring down at him openly. "Can I...?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Taeshik breathed, and immediately responded to the kiss that Jiho leaned down for.

Jiho's left hand worked steadily, a bit clumsily, while they made out. Taeshik distantly noticed that Jiho's right arm wasn't doing much, just braced on the rim underneath his head...but he wasn't going to be greedy for a massage when everything else felt so pleasant.

His body was really getting into it when Jiho drew his hand away. "I want to try giving a blowjob," he said, casually without any hesitation or shame inflecting his voice and what.

What?

Taeshik stared wide-eyed, but Jiho was looking behind him.

"You could sit there," he went on, pointing at the seat at the other end of the tub, "Water level's low enough."

"Okay," Taeshik vaguely heard himself mumble. He felt lightheaded. The blood that hadn't traveled south was probably rushing into his brain or something.

He made his way over and sat, his gaze helplessly following the way Jiho's eyes were tracking their own target. Without much hesitation, Jiho bowed his head and holy shit Taeshik was still reeling.

After trying it once, Juyeon hadn't really gone down on Taeshik—had said it "wasn't his thing"—and Taeshik had shrugged it off, there were other things to enjoy.

But he hadn't forgotten what his first and last time had felt, and right now... _fuck_ , it was as good as he remembered it. Even better actually, because Jiho seemed enthusiastic about it, was earnest in his first attempt, and who even cared about a virgin's—sort-of-virgin's?—technique? At this point, Taeshik wouldn't have given a fuck even if it were terrible, not that he would be able to evaluate accurately given his own lack of experience being on the receiving end, but it wasn't bad, not at all...

He kept his eyes on Jiho's flushed face, carding his fingers through soft black hair and trying to smooth down the bits still sticking up funnily. After lavishing plenty of very-much-appreciated attention, Jiho paused and pulled back a little, shoulders rising and falling shallowly. A string of precum had broken off and was decorating his pretty lips...oh god...

Although 100% of his attention was fixed on the scene, Taeshik couldn't see the emotions—if there were any—that Jiho's eyes, hidden under dark lashes, were conveying before— _ohhhh_ fuck—

Jiho's tongue darted out to lick off the liquid, somewhat contemplatively. The hand in Jiho's hair trembled as Taeshik's already frantic heartbeat ratcheted up. That probably made the list of the hottest things he'd ever seen up-close, so far. It could probably be topped by Jiho swallowing, a look of pleasure on his face while he did...but no no nope. He should stop getting ahead of himself. He didn't really expect that from the guy, when he himself certainly hadn't done so well, sputtering and spitting, the first couple times.

Even if—he thought giddily, mesmerized by the sight and sensation of Jiho resuming the sucking and licking—he really... _really_  fucking wanted...— _fuuuck_...!

He was going to burst from overheating.

Jiho had put his mouth back over the head, and he kept going, deeper, steadily working his throat around, eyes closed while his hand clutched Taeshik's tense thigh...holy fuck... And then he gagged a bit and pulled away but kept his lips right  _there_  as he breathed raggedly, and Taeshik was okay with that, he was  _so_  okay,  _way_   _more_   _than_  okay because—because fuck. He couldn't believe Jiho had actually tried to...

Without allowing any more time to breathe or think or marvel some more, Jiho dove back, and that was a little too much for Taeshik's beleaguered state of mind and sensitized skin and—

"F-fuck, sorry!" he gasped out while Jiho, after flinching a moment, swallowed most of the load like a trooper. "Should've warned you—"

"No...it's fine," Jiho said, looking thoughtful. The expression was such a contrast to the flush on his cheeks, his short breaths, and those absolutely sinful lips.

He readily obliged when Taeshik tugged lightly at his hair, rising from the water on his knees and propping his hands on Taeshik's thighs to give him the kiss he wanted. Breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed against each other's, Taeshik glanced down to see Jiho's very enthusiastic erection. Oh thank god—he'd been half afraid that Jiho wouldn't feel all that great about what had happened.

A beat, and then a few seconds of messy splashing and clumsy maneuvering and shoving, and he somehow got Jiho backed up against the jets at the other end of the tub. Taeshik's right hand was planted on the rim right next to Jiho's hair, while his left trapped Jiho's scarred arm against the marble above his head, forcing Jiho to arch his back as his chest heaved in and out of the water.

The straining muscles in Jiho's neck were clearly defined, and his free hand was frozen—almost unsure—on Taeshik's right forearm. What a vision it was...

Captivated, Taeshik looked down at Jiho for a long moment. His thumb pressed circles into the firm muscle and bone of Jiho's twitching right arm, and Jiho closed his eyes, brow lightly furrowed and his lips parted in sharp exhalations.

Taeshik felt oddly bold. He leaned down to murmur playfully into Jiho's ear, "So, how does it feel, sucking cock for the first time?"

"Different. Not...not bad?" Jiho choked out the latter part as Taeshik reached to grab his erection with his free right hand. "You taste...kind of sweet?"

"It's probably all the fruit in my diet," he said, but he wasn't really paying attention to what his mouth was flapping about when he was handling such pleasant distractions. It didn't take much longer to get Jiho off. And damn...he was starting to get fond of the notes of restraint in the sounds that Jiho made when he came...

Letting go of Jiho's arm, Taeshik sat back to calm his nerves. The jets bubbled and water lapped against their chests while both of them took the time to steady their breathing.

Head still tilted back against the rim of the tub, Jiho muttered, "It's too hot." And then an almighty splash as he stood up abruptly, "I need to cool down."

"Yeah..." Taeshik agreed, his eyes avidly following the trajectory of long legs and lovely backside.

They quickly showered under comfortably tepid water while the tub drained, and then, within minutes, they were dried, clothed, and sitting at the table, watching the chirpy morning weather forecaster saying that the rain would continue throughout the day.

" _Such_  good news," Taeshik commented sarcastically.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving. There's a promising-looking restaurant nearby, wanna try it out?"

"Good idea." They packed up their belongings, turned everything off, and left. Taeshik tossed the key in the drop-off slot in the elevator and, leaving Jiho's motorcycle for him to come back for later, they jogged across the narrow street for their breakfast.

"Do you want me to give you a ride?" Jiho asked halfway through their meal, watching the misty drizzle through the window.

"In this rain? No thanks," Taeshik said, fingers already dialing a number on his smartphone, "I'm calling a taxi."

Jiho laughed. "Yeah, riding pillion on a bike in a cheap raincoat is probably too undignified for the young master."

"Shut up," Taeshik shot back lightly, and then spoke into his phone.

They finished stuffing their faces with the hot, delicious rice and beef stew, which Jiho insisted on paying for, and then decided to wait outside for Taeshik's ride, under the protection of the restaurant's awning. The taxi arrived within minutes.

"Good luck on your test!" Taeshik called back as he ran over.

"Don't really need it, but thanks!" 

* * *

"What are you so happy about?" Minjae asked, looking miserable as he tossed his damp backpack on his desk.

Jiho turned his head to look at his friend, eyebrow raised. "I'm not."

"Dude, your face is all bright and shit, more than usual. You hate Saturday classes."

"Everyone hates them."

"Right, and you're probably the worst when it comes to attendance—...wait," he leaned over, squinting at Jiho, "Don't tell me that's your 'I got laid' face...you  _actually_  have a secret girlfriend?"

Jiho snorted. "That's an idiotic rumor. Minjae, don't be an idiot. And get your mind out of the gutter for once."

Minjae pulled away, still looking suspicious. "Why else would you be so...so  _alert_  on a rainy Saturday?"

"I had a good night's sleep, obviously." Even if the annoying cramp had cut off the tail end of his sleep, he was telling the truth. Part of it. He wasn't going to say anything about everything else that still had him floating on a weird high. Taeshik wasn't Seokjun, but the guy was more than helpful and sex was sex. Far removed from any sappy feelings, it had been...a lot of fun.

"Ah, a good night's sleep," said Geon, sitting down on the desk next to Minjae. "An illusion for the rest of us ambitious mortals aiming for the SKY. Well, you've been looking a bit ragged lately, it's good to see you looking rested."

The bell rang and the students settled down for the class, and Jiho couldn't seem to feel anything but an easy, quiet satisfaction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SKY = acronym for South Korea's three most prestigious universities: Seoul National University, Korea University, and Yonsei University


End file.
